On the road to Athens
Users of this guide -some even call it the bible- know the phenomenon: in search of authenticity and their own identity, a motley procession of adventurers roams the earth with Lonely Planet in hand. By the thousands, they follow exactly the same routes and arrive at exactly the same village squares. Where the locals are said to be authentic... Meanwhile, the locals themselves have long since said goodbye to their fermented goat milk and other customs. These days, they stand doing authentic in one of the many burger joints that completely ruin the view of the famous little square. Backpacking makes one hungry and individuality is nothing on an empty stomach so the individualists indulge. What is left of the livestock is enthusiastically turned in to the burgers. Meanwhile, original village life plays out 5 kilometres away, in a village the guide, and his bevy of loyal followers, have never heard of.
We sail around the Saronic Gulf, south of Athens. The unfamiliar waters force us to make use of the Pilot. The only question is whether it only sends us to ‘Lonely Planet places’. We are actually looking for ancient Greece, if it still exists. Nice that a sailboat leaves no trace, I think, staring at our stern wave. The sea lets us through and closes in behind us again, as if we were never there. We are on our way to the island of Aegina, about 20 miles of sailing from our base in Kalamaki. The Meltemi keeps calm. Above the Greek mainland, we do see the wind feathers typical of this wind, but here we have a south-easterly breeze, force 3.
Port of Aegina
Aegina ‘s harbour is praised for its cosy taverns. There are karaoke bars and fashion shops. On the plane to Athens, we already met fellow sailors who wanted to sail in flotilla to Aegina. ‘Nice for a night out,’ I suggest to my crew. My wife points on the map to the eastern side of the island: ‘There seems to be a bay there with good anchorage, and according to the Pilot you can walk to one of Greece's oldest temples from there’.
Together with another sailing yacht and a catamaran, we anchor 100 metres from the beach. In 7 metres of water, we see the anchor on the bottom. 50 metres of chain behind it and we are like a house. ‘Later, with the dinghy, we will check how deep it is when we get closer to the beach,’ Robert says. ‘For when the wind turns and we drift there I mean’. Good idea.
Temple of Aphaia
The route to the temple of Aphaia is a tough hike to the top of the mountain. For the more upmarket readers: there is also a bus going there. The priests had a great view from their workplace: we can see the ship in the bay far below us, and even Athens on the horizon. The well-preserved temple takes us back to a time when priests still ruled this island, and probably not only that. Maps show where the original sacrificial site was. ‘Don't think too much about exactly what those bastards sacrificed,’ Robert demonstrates his take on the whole thing.
Meanwhile, we stroll to the inevitable knick-knack shop selling Greek ceramics, including erotic paintings. The female at the till looks like she is 100 but it could have been 50 tropical years. Surrounded by Greek porn on plates, cards and vases, she looks on unflappably. ‘No wonder those priests came up with such weird ideas,’ says Pia. ‘As long as you at least get it out of your head!’. It is time to walk back to the village.
My name is Panos
‘I am Panos and I have been running a bar here since 1976’. Then he has kept it up for a long time: during our walk back, we came across some abandoned bars and hotels. ‘Oh, problems we've always had here in Greece,’ Panos says. ‘We used to just lower the rate of the Drachma then. But now with the euro, everything has become much more expensive for us.’ Do we understand correctly that they themselves have as many problems with the euro, as the union has with them? ‘Of politics I don't understand anything sir. I only know that the Greeks don't come here anymore because it's getting too expensive for them. That's why it's so quiet everywhere.’
We order another round, whereupon Panos walks to the garden behind the bar and returns with a bowl of strawberries. Sugar and cinnamon on top and by the second Gin Tonic, I'm already thinking like the Greeks: ‘What problems? The sun is shining, I see no problems. Do you?’ Cheers!
The benefit of the recession
Walking back to the dinghy, we pass an apartment complex under construction. Here one of the benefits of the recession shows itself. Greek ingenuity at its best: the flats, once intended to attract tourists with a luxurious pool with phenomenal views over the bay, are now occupied by farmers who have turned them into goat pens. But not only goats live here. As we walk through the weeds, we hear occasional footsteps. Eventually, we come to a makeshift tent made of plastic. ‘Camping at room 308,’ Robert mutters. ‘I think it's time we started acting like tourists again Ron, that ‘off the beaten track’ thing of yours I now believe. And those footsteps are fast approaching too, by the way.’ Seemingly relaxed, we stroll (at a fast walking pace) back to the little harbour with the dinghy.
Don't get us wrong: Ayia Marina is a wonderful place and we had to make some effort to read the backstory. At the front, there is nothing going on. In the evening, on Panos' recommendation, we go to restaurant Costa. Since Robert expects a more touristy attitude (and because he doesn't want to tire his girlfriend too much), we take the horse-drawn carriage. The best restaurants are never in A1 locations and this one is no exception. A few kilometres outside the village, we are breezily delivered to Costa. Highly recommended!
As a tourist to Poros
From Aegina to Poros is only twenty miles. Poros is a peninsula in Askeli Bay, which the Pilot recommends and which we find suspicious. That will later prove unjustified because Poros is a beautiful village. As we spend the last night in Aegina Bay, the wind picks up. Moreover, it turns so that the next day we are very close to the beach. ‘The more chain, the better’ therefore does not always apply. We reefed the anchor and sailed to Poros.
No antifouling needed in Methana
Since the wind kept the skipper rather out of sleep that night, the young guard is doing the navigation today. Sailing to Poros, we take up the Pilot again and read that we will pass the Methana peninsula on the way. Don't go there, says the Pilot. Methana (what's in a name?) is a volcanic island and the port is permeated by the smell of methane gas, which still rises from the bottom. A sailor has no business here, according to the guide. The only advantage of the water in Methana is that you go there needing antifouling.
‘We'll see about that!’
‘By the way, it stinks pretty bad here, skipper.’ Naturally, we deviated from the route. Some challenges you can't avoid. The entrance to Methana harbour is difficult to find, according to the Pilot. ‘We'll see about that!’ sounds the battle cry of our youngest crew members. Having scrambled over the two-metre-deep threshold, we are now lying with our butts to the shore, soaking up the smell of methane gas. The port is one of the type where you stow your ship and then go home. Methana's promenade, however, is modern and well-maintained. There appear to be excellent restaurants but again vacant.
Methana's best-kept secret
The best bar appears to be that of Mr Vangelis, the B&B Cafe-Bar & Edesmata. Methana's best-kept secret is that Vangelis does not have a restaurant because he does not have a licence to do so. He does have the best pizzas in Greece but they are not on the menu. Just order a beer for 10 euros, the pizza is free, an Englishman explains. For 20 euros, we eat and drink there late into the night. Vangelis explains: ‘We used to have a lot of tourism here. But that became less and less 15 years ago. The European Union didn't like the empty hotels and encouraged the construction of new ones. And now, alongside the old empty hotels, there are brand new empty hotels.’
After so much Ouzo, this seems quite logical at the end of the night. After waving us goodbye, he calls after us, ‘With those new empty hotels, we can go on for years! The old ones needed replacing!’ Laughing, he pulls the door shut.
Sailing around Poros
After a great reception by dolphins, we arrive in Poros. It is striking, and so noteworthy, that there are still a lot of fish in the sea. Not just dolphins: Robert and Irene feed the fish in the harbour in the evening where we see quite large groupers and harders swimming. We moor Mediterranean again: 50 metres before the jetty we throw out the anchor. Calmly reversing, we bring the transom of our Jeanneau to the jetty. Two mooring lines attached and we've already earned another glass of Sangria!
Small alleys in Poros
In Poros, we seek out the small alleys behind the promenade. Poros is a bit busier and therefore a bit more expensive. But here, too, we are surprised at how clean everything is. Streets are barely vacuumed but there is not a speck of dust. How different from Athens. Everywhere where people live on tourism, we see this situation: they do their best (only more so) to please foreigners, without becoming irritating. Back from the restaurant (look for it higher up, follow the alleys up and follow your nose), we see that the anchor chain has gone slack due to the swell. Fortunately, the anchor is just far enough to pull the ship off the jetty again by simply turning the chain in. So in the future we will cast further offshore.
We sail past the Methana volcano in the direction of Epidavros. We use the calm to swim behind the boat. With long lines for the swimmers to grab if it should go too fast.
Like long-awaited friends, we are welcomed that evening by the innkeeper at the port of Epidavros. Turns out he mistakes us for flotilla leaders and already wants to pay us for bringing in a fleet of ships with hungry sailors. When he finds out we are alone we get the standard dish he apparently serves all flotillas: lots, cheap and greasy. Epidavros is furnished for the classic recipe of Wein, Weib und Gesang and, like all such places outside the main season, exudes sadness. Not even the Greek sun can change that.
Sailing around Aegina
En route to Aegina, the last port before Kalamaki, we make a stopover in Kyra Bay. The islet is about 200 metres high and the steep slope actually continues underwater. We copy the anchor method from the Greeks: as soon as the bottom rises to 25 metres, we lower the anchor. With a line to a rock, we pull the ship to shore. Regardless of whether the wind turns, we lie like a house. In the clear water, we snorkel around the boat. The ship's shadow marks itself 10 metres deep on the bottom. It's just another Wednesday afternoon in just any bay in Greece. And this is what we do it all for!
On the ground!
Aegina itself is exactly what it should be. The last stop of the sailing holiday before we sail back to our home port in Kalamaki. We moor the ship against a busy waterside terrace. The gangway leads almost directly to the bar! ‘Can you still have an evening of swaying darling,’ says Pia. But at that moment, we feel a jolt through the boat!
The quay wall turns out not to be so straight after all and runs under the boat, causing the rudder to hit the bottom. With diving goggles and snorkel, I see that it is a rock which is right under our rudder blade. Fortunately, there is no damage yet. We raise the boat a metre and, still dripping, Robert and I reward ourselves with a cool cocktail at the bar. ‘Nice way to impress at the pub, gentlemen,’ says Pia, who comes over to bring us a towel. ‘As long as you don't make it too late, tomorrow we have to go back to the Netherlands.’ So much ‘beauty’ to look forward to: that needs to be drunk, Robert observes. ‘ ‘Tis bound to rain in Holland. Cheers!’
What have we learned?
- Greece in itself does not exist, for sailors. Different areas characterise themselves in their own way.
- The Sarolian Gulf is also a nice sailing area for those who want to avoid the Lonely Planet man, but a night out is quite manageable. We did so in Aegina harbour but towns like Poros and Epidavros are also attractive in high season in that respect.
- The Meltemi blows from the north east. So don't descend too far south, many one way charters are offered to get ships back to Kalamaki.
- We are not economists, but ‘The crisis’ is nothing new in the places we visited. It has only made the Greeks friendlier.
- In pre-season (we sailed there in May) prices are very reasonable, as long as you don't fall into tourist traps.
- Anchoring: put enough chain (at least 5 times the water depth but preferably more). Take into account swinging space and others who may put more or less chain. Ideally, you should be between an anchor and a line to shore.